On Love and Friendship
by crapwriting
Summary: Love has hit Hermione full force, angst following closely behind it. When it comes down to it, who does she really love? And who is just a friend?


She had always thought that this was what she wanted. So why was she so utterly depressed and alone? Why did she care that she was alone? She had always been so independent.

She had been the one to let go of _him_. And it was hard. Jesus, it was the hardest thing she'd ever had to do. But she'd managed. She'd let him go and she had been okay afterwards. He was the one that had struggled. 

Was that what hurt? Seeing him happy? When she wasn't? It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that he had suffered so outwardly, that he had been comforted. That she had been the culprit. It wasn't fair that she had held such a calm, collected, happy exterior, that she had suffered so much on the inside. She had ignored the pain, pushed it away, been sick with the pain and her own anger at feeling that pain. She was always supposed to be strong. She was always the individual. So how could letting go of someone else hurt that much?

God, he made her angry. Unless he was falling over her, or in her arms in hugs and caresses they had no right to… She felt hurt, pushed aside… She felt like yesterday's news. She felt like the most useless, uninteresting, irritating woman in the world.

But when, like tonight, he ignored her completely? When he flirted freely with the other girls there and paid not so much as a word of greeting to her? It infuriated her. What right did he have? What right did he have to hurt her _now_? She had allowed him his grieving. She had given him space, time… She had given him total separation from herself to grieve in. He never had to see her. He never had to see her with someone else, being happy. No, she did him that one last favor. So where was hers? What would he give her in return?

She already knew that it was nothing. She just didn't want to accept it. She already knew that he would never allow himself to become close to her again, all the while never letting her out of his life. He would perpetuate the steady line of pain he walked across her heart, cutting off access to anyone else…

Even his best friend. As much as she should, and as much as they'd all like her to, she would never be able to forget what he'd said about her and Ron. How dare he? How dare he pull the uncompassionate act with her, cutting her out constantly while welcoming other women into his heart and at the same time, forbid any men from entering hers? What say did he have in the matter? And why the hell would he care if she dated some one else? It was obviously none of his concern.

Ah, but now it was Ron's. Now Harry had planted the seed. Now Ron wanted to experience what he'd been verbally assaulted for. Now Ron wanted to perpetrate the crime he'd been punished for. And he wanted to know what she felt.

Where did she begin to explain? She let him read her private diaries. She spilled her heart to him. She told him the innermost workings of her thoughts and he still didn't understand. He still didn't realize that she didn't know… That she was miserable and that she had so much love to give and no one wanted to receive it.

And he told her he would receive it.

Obviously, he had missed the point completely. It wasn't some unlabeled gift, awaiting her selection of recipient. It was something that had exploded. Something that had been destroyed, broken. Something that many people now held pieces of. She didn't own it anymore. It owned her.

She didn't even know if she could love him. She wasn't sure - even if she could - that she would. But she certainly couldn't tell him that. So he called her a tease and held on.

He held on, and complained about her and Harry, during Harry's increasingly rare flashes of affection. He complained about her and Draco. Well… her hopes for her and Draco. And she wanted to tell him, to shake him into understanding. She wanted him to stop reading every one of her emotions. She wanted him to listen. She would tell him if he would just listen.

She would tell him how she had felt such a silly, rebellious schoolgirl crush on Draco after losing Harry. She would tell him about their growing friendship, about the night when she was sick and he had taken care of her… She would tell him about the day that she realized she loved him. She would tell him about the day that she realized she had _always_ loved him - there had always been passion in their arguments, and hatred. She would tell him about the day she realized that she hated him because she loved him - because she loved him, in spite of everything, and he didn't love her. She would tell him how Draco was the only person ever, aside from Harry, that she could see herself building a future with, in spite of every obstacle that would stand in their way. She would tell him these things, if he would only listen. If he only wanted to hear.

She would tell Draco these things too. She would risk losing him to the truth. She would risk her friendship with him; gamble it away on the slim chance that he loved her. It didn't matter much, after Harry. After losing your best friend, your soul mate, the man you wanted to marry… After losing all of it in one go, one couldn't be afraid of risking relationships. What did it matter? What could possibly compare? How could anything worse possibly happen?

It's not as if her and Draco had lacked animosity in the past. What was the harm in bringing some back? So maybe she'd suffer some considerable taunting. She didn't care. It was beneath her. No one could bring her the same magnitude of pain that she had seemed to find on her very own. She could no longer worry about what anyone else thought of her.

Hermione stood up quickly - resolutely, even - from her spot on the common room couch. She wasn't sure how she'd managed to stop her hands from shaking as she pushed her way through the portrait hole. She wasn't sure how she found her way down to the entrance to the Slytherin common room. She wasn't sure, once there, how she had managed to get in, to find her way to his room. 

She knocked on the door, but it wasn't the hesitant, fearful knock she had delivered. It resounded strong and confident.

The door slid open, revealing at first shock and then curiosity. "What are you doing here?"

"Can we talk?"

A very confused Draco moved out of the way, ushering her into the empty dormitory. She shot him a questioning glance.

"They're still in the common room. Probably have about five minutes."

She cleared her throat. "I won't need that long. I like you. And I need to know how you really feel about me."

She kept his gaze, holding her head high. She watched his eyes flicker slightly, watched him chew on his bottom lip before responding. "Why now, Granger? Why would you come down so urgently to tell me that? Out of all of the opportunities you would have - how long have you liked me?"

She sighed. She hated to add to his already severely warped ego. "I think since… since always. I just… I just never accepted it until a few months ago."

He nodded as if he understood. She took this to be a good sign. He opened his mouth and closed it again, focusing his gaze more intensely on her. His eyes hardened. "So why now?"

Oh, she got it. He was worried that this was all a joke. He didn't trust her, and he didn't want to be made a fool. She sighed. "Dammit, Draco. I don't know. I can't keep doing this. I'm dying. I just… I just want to be happy. I want to be with you. It felt more urgent when I was up there… When I was… when I was with… them…" She coughed, lightly, and shot her gaze to her feet. But she didn't miss the look of understanding that flashed across his face. 

"Oh, Merlin. Come here. I've been waiting for you to tell me." 

She walked towards him, stepping lightly, and indecisively inching closer to him. She stopped, a few feet away and he rolled his eyes.

"First you're in love with me, then you can't stand to be near me. I don't understand you Granger. I don't think I ever will."

When he finished speaking, he grabbed her roughly, sweeping her into his arms for the longest awaited kiss of their lives.


End file.
